| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/22/2007 7:34:36 PM | litinginous propriety devoid of blue sky falling
whispers that carry the emerald breath of satans toungue
phalic falacies swaying in the winds of timecast fortitudinous storms
while below the landscapes of hemlock and heroin
the souls of plato and jason play together in the fields of darkness
sharp crack of the cyth as itreaps the bounty
of bitter angred souls
while under the sky of falling blue
manet paints idle images
of picnics in the park
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/22/2007 8:10:34 PM | | I thank you for the compliment, Shadow. And this poem is tremendous. I love the manipulation of words. You express genius in every poem. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 4:35:32 AM | Joshua...the promised land...even the scriptures said it so!
Black sheep ever the proverbial
Never seen the painter paint the blush
Memorable in senses, never tamed
Death and living are no sheepish games
Unseen force going to roads untravelled
Piped Piper makes up tunes
Oh but the Queen of Spades is using her tricks again
There’s another mystic man with a heart
I can’t warn
Who believes in a crystal ball?
Someone understood before the
White witch glows without satisfaction | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 12:35:39 PM | | Beautiful Picture AnotherAwakening...it truly is. And I thank you for this poem...I love your poetic expression. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 2:33:49 PM | Walking free
A block beyond the evil past—
But the portrait has eyes that blink—
There’s a presence in every picture I touch—
And the pendulum has lost its rhythm.
Legions afflict the candle and
Tamper with the Gregorian chant and
Notwithstanding the Word has played all night,
There are spirits here of every genre.
Upon the sword the mind dangles
Watching from the cliff the calling ground
As if to say a woman with hammer hast drove
A nail through the temple of Divinity
And I await the whispers that laugh.
Death is but the disposition of a thought.
And thus—death hast lost his sting. “Travel
Through the lily patch.” In haste I ran to meet
The apparition. But awaited me was shalom.
And thus—adios to those vibrations that kill of me. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 2:51:13 PM | To Vent in Public.
Rage is still in me.
Everything sweet is but a myth to me.
But tomorrow I shall be free.
Free to return our delusion.
“Why does he say thus things?”
“Why remind us of no reality?” | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 3:00:47 PM | At random
The chi explodes
The tarot unfolds
And from warmth
I become froze
Have you ever lain in a coffin?
Or felt your own ashes?
In me is resurrection.
But I must first tame the beast?
While in tongues my spirit screams.
Maybe this too
Is a Rites of Passage.
Only a mantis couldst make things clear.
All night I’ve rubbed upon this grail.
The tips of my fingers are raw.
And how many worlds have I visit this soul? | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 3:07:55 PM | Motion through us.
One last dance from finished
The stream sucked me in
And freely I turn into venom
I don’t wish to hear of the roses
And I know nature too well to
Continue to ignore her vicious sides
But she too is only a cycle
Indifferent
Aloof and ever the more
Unconscious
Just as my last breath
Will I remember?
Or will the tribunal be familiar to me? | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 3:19:03 PM | 40
Into the blue I ascend
Eyes red with wonder
And the yellow I now hate.
Take me back to the green.
Is it not all symbolic?
How many nights have I worn this tallis?
And this sackcloth has made rawness of God’s flesh.
Gripping this crucifix
But to pick it up not one day
And the war can become sulphurous…
The hells of a fire you bore. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 3:49:35 PM | Hands Full...........
It was forever mental
First made to fell stupid
Then ugly
And then the molestation
The statutory rape
The physical rapes
The multiple addictions
The mental rapes
The depression
The recovery
The slow rot to heaven
And they tell me to mourn the free | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 4:00:24 PM | Hopefully not a blank prayer.
Walk into the sky laced with smiles
Clad in what you can’t see that glistens
Finally meet yourself in the mirror of his reflection
And the beauty therein the woman of sorrows
Without the affliction of the world’s woes
You knew the wounds of Christ
It’s now fair to know his joys
This was your faith
And
Though I left your side
Let the haunt be gone
Let my raw knees get through to God
Block not the prayers of that dying child
For
I’m now here in spirit
And was then also
Tell of her the truth, God | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 4:18:23 PM | | When a child forgives, the heavens repent. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 4:34:27 PM | | ^^^^Living in this crazy world and all it's madness that comes with it sometimes,...and to be able to escape long enough to embrace that which is spirit to spirit....even if it's just a temporary place,.....I thank you my friend for the words and energy(spirit) you continue to bring to the page. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 4:57:37 PM | | You both are the calm in heart the storm. I thank you both. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 4:57:46 PM | Was she in spirit Cassandra?
This is hermetic from me.
But I chase for the iridescent…
Constantly affronted by the mercurial.
The saturnine is among us.
And we crave for the tantalizing peace…
Quavering upon the broken axis. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 5:06:34 PM | Flux
It’s the book of mysticism
The ambrosia of eternity
Deadly as Calypso
Yet fearless as David
In the penumbra afoul is his thoughts
Searching out the par excellent poise
We shall break the eristic trail
We shall embrace the photic soul
Despite the now state of asthenia | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 5:16:36 PM | Aplomb return to soul…
The self-possession unto spirit-bone.
The sensorium is throbbing sulphur…
A fabulous sin unto the undiscovered.
But a fantast I dream
Of peace and pleasant streams
Of portraits void of silent screams
Of the first waters of the morning star spring.
Is this but a fool’s paradise?
Have I chased the great illusion within a thousand blinks?
Shatter not this glass-house of my delusion
Before I’m adequately powerful enough to efface this gridlock pollution. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 5:33:10 PM | Unraveled in Dead Sea Scrolls…….
Found, in the noetic pith—
A cave to roam…
Therein are ancient artifacts
Belonging to the souls of purgatory…
A requiescat was summons of me; thus
….The Mother Earth awakens
Speaking gently in undulations…
One must feel eternity…
…ambling gracefully through nirvana….
I stumble in spirit
Upon “The cave of Adullam” where
King David quoted in vision
The Oracles of Psalms….
For the dead I listen…
…….unraveled in Dead sea Scrolls…. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 5:51:10 PM | low light of morning rise aride on the tide of the swaying mists of october
autum bride in viel of white soon to die on the heart of passions day
loon cry mourns her in forshadowed knowing
as the majestic bird saddens the scape
hidden deep from view
only to be seen tby the blind eye and open heart
its call resonating through my soul
reaching deeply into the memories of my ancestors
who wait to great the bride
dear morning mist
october veil
where none but the lonely can fade
in the low light of the morning rise
awash on the grey tides of october | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/23/2007 7:12:20 PM | merlot on skin in midnight hour
washed bodies in painted flower of mist laden dew
rising hearts calling toward the morning flight
of silver toned golden light
anew with passion blooming soar
upon the remenants of nightsky
slowly fadding
as falling blues crash hard upon the sunwashed earth
alas a new day
where sorrow no longer looming
and soon the flowers of lust shall burn hot in the mid-day radiance
of fiery hights where flesh melts with desire
and the cooling caress of touch
leaves the sun in envy
of the passion fire
of flesh and desire | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/24/2007 8:55:58 AM | MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM?
Matutinal prayers—principles of peace—
Lead me into the mystic-arts; thus
Compose thru fingers bound
My cleric of eternity.
What was bequeathing to me!
Was it not what I can’t change?—sores of fire!
How do I make right the absence of life?
Usurious blackmail it is to me.
Am I not righteous to rant and rave?—the drain of me!
Through the desolate tundra I trek and pause—the
Noetic affects of the squall have spate my heart wit
Visions. The pluvial fall of memories rake at the fortresses
Of my mind—make summer of my thoughts—leave me not
To the mercies of kleptomanian spirits that mulct man
Of the deep calm—that exploit sins arrear.
Diurnal illusions sought of refuge
So deceptive yet
So sweet—dear God
Deceive me into the pits of an unreality.
Lo, greatly I long
Lost in doxologies
Making melody in my heart—
Hear of my complications Lord:
Eczema is upon my flesh,
Hives are upon my spirit,
I war the thin line—
Is this not proof of my perdition?
Are we of the same conflict, Lord?
Where are the comforts of Love?
Was I unkind to the laity?
Have I approached the priesthood wit
Levity in my heart? I’m borderline the
Cataplexy Mountains. It can’t all be
Dereistic—this is of a truth—unto a reality.
De pro fun dis of mother’s despair
I ask manumission of her soul—the call of
Spirit-jubilee—the sodalities of the last
Mass. Where is the redemption?
Anagogic scriptures rupture made tangible.
What is the kismet of a slave?—the one who has met God
In the hospice of a mind surrounded by plagues?—lo,
I still keepeth the faith. Raise us from the dead, Father—
Notwithstanding we breathe. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/24/2007 9:02:18 AM | | Truly poetic, shadow. Your voice flowed thru and thru. Truly artistic in truth. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/24/2007 5:46:14 PM | From the ashes you came back
In one solid breath
An inhalation, revitalization
Reality back to fantastical illusion
In those hours before the dawn
Nothing more sweet is to hear your song
Marquis de Sade,
Mais sure que le jour
ta joie est ma torture
If only the jasmine wouldn't wither or fray
If only the night could conquer the day
If only my body beside you lay
If only everything gold could stay
Si tu etais ici, ton corp tout pres de moi
Si je pourrais un jour me coller sure toi
Pas dans mes reves, pas juste aux mots
Mais vifs, tout nues joint de peau a peau
My mind is not the same as yours
Those twisted games you play
My hand is open
I can live on the road I say
If we could only know the truth between
the misconceptions we misconstrue
From the reality we bleed
Lover of souls and flesh and life
On the tips of our tongues we could pass the day
What a lovely courtship until the strife
Of the wicked games your nature does play | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/25/2007 11:05:03 AM | | beautifully complex poem, Jesyka.... I am truly into it. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 8/25/2007 11:05:41 AM | Adrift ii
lava has a rhythm of its own
meters that intrigue the mystic
i chide not the clouds
and the leopards know of my passion
let the sulfur rain
let the earth open
and watch in spirit
as i trek the mid ocean ridge
touch the warm hand
ignore the gelid concrete
and watch the sheep closely
especially those of thy loins
gather from the four corners
emeralds, diamonds and gold
the smite of a mighty wind cometh
then the sun shines again
my song singeth in the bulwark
waving throughout the airglow
we are mere multiple stars
galaxies lost in this nebula
but i love of you
not as Abraham love-ed Ishmael
but as Samson unto Delilah
an ignorant and senseless love
hell has motioned unto repentance
what will the bible thumpers now do?
the illusion is shattered
all is one—and we know it
in the vineyards of mental portraits
i paint into existence tranquility
i gather the years that have passed—but
the uppermost branch has told a lie
one that i held dearly
one that i hearken unto
even in denial’s enlightenment
what becometh of the last seed? | |
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